Last night, I finished reading Paul Murray's The Bee Sting. It's the longest work of fiction that I've read in a long time. It is a very different book from Paul Lynch's Prophet Song. I mention them in the same paragraph because they were both nominated for the Booker Prize.
I have big sprawling books on the brain in part because of reading The Bee Sting, in part because of this wonderful essay by Carlos Lozada on the works of John Jakes. This NYT photo taken by Naila Ruechel will spark memories for certain generations of readers:
I started reading these books in my teenage years, when I devoured all sorts of books. These books had it all: great characters, the sweep of history, and I loved having a whole series to explore. As a teenager, I was desperate to lose myself in a book, and these books were just what I wanted.
I also loved the books by James Michener, where the history was more meticulously researched, which meant one got a much bigger treatment of the subject. I got the history not just of the people on the land, but of the land itself.
Lozada reread all these books before writing the essay; I won't be doing that. There are so many wonderful books in the world, and I have so much less reading time than I did when I was in high school.
But I am relieved to discover that I can still read a big book.
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